


Sending Out Flares

by cac0daemonia



Series: Clone Wars: Reconstruction Corps AU [17]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Brotherly Affection, Clones, Coruscant Guards (Star Wars), Fix-It, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Panic Attacks, Reconstruction Corps AU, Vomiting, blankets and hot chocolate, it's not graphic though, like a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cac0daemonia/pseuds/cac0daemonia
Summary: Echo is back and the war is winding down, but there are no magical fixes. You have to gothrough itto come out the other side.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & Clone Commander Thorn (Star Wars), CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo & CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives & CC-1010 | Fox, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives & CT-7567 | Rex, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives & Clone Commander Thorn (Star Wars)
Series: Clone Wars: Reconstruction Corps AU [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048891
Comments: 45
Kudos: 130
Collections: Echo&Fives





	Sending Out Flares

**Author's Note:**

> This follows almost immediately after "[Modulation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29097483)," so I recommend you read that first or this won't make sense. And there are parts of both of those that relate back to the events in "[That's not how it happened. This is how it happened](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033334)."
> 
> Huge thanks to sheApunk89 and [elouanwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elouanwrites/pseuds/elouanwrites) for beta-ing! <3
> 
> [Tumblr](https://cacodaemonia.tumblr.com/)

Fives is at the Citadel. He’s running, and he has the sense that there are others around him, running with him.

Tripping on something, he looks down and sees Echo’s scorched, mangled bucket. He bends over to pick it up, terror knotting in his stomach, and then he’s alone.

Quickly and quietly, because he knows the droids are looking for him, he begins searching.

He has to find Echo.

Clutching Echo’s bucket, he darts between shadows and squeezes through tight spaces with his heart in his throat. Slipping into a dim room, Fives looks around and realizes it’s their bunk section on Kamino, with a bench and lockers, and sleeping pods in the wall. The pods are all closed, so he starts frantically opening them, one after another. Empty, empty, empty... Finally, he opens one and looks in to see a body lying there, still as a corpse.

It’s Echo, but he looks all wrong. He’s not a cadet anymore, and he’s gaunt and his skin is ashen. There are metal things in him, in his head and chest, on his neck, and most of his limbs have been replaced with crude prosthetics. His red cadet uniform is torn and charred.

There’s no time to think about it, though. The droids could find them any second, so they can’t stay here.

Fives shakes Echo, hissing, “Come on, wake up.”

Sitting up, Echo looks at Fives, alarmed. “We have to get to the shuttle!”

So they run. Fives is still carrying Echo’s bucket because… because he has to.

Reaching the landing platform where the shuttle is parked, they dive behind cover to avoid the droids’ blaster fire. Fives steps out to shoot when Echo throws a thermal detonator at the droids’ feet. Some of them get knocked down by the blast, but their shields save them and they continue fighting.

A commando droid vaults up onto a turret platform, and Echo says, voice clipped, “They're gonna blow up the shuttle, sir.”

Sir? Who is he talking to?

There’s more blaster fire, more explosions, and Echo pauses to lean against the wall they’re using for cover. “This is our only chance” he yells, “We've got to stop him!” Dashing out into the chaos, he grabs one of the commando droids’ discarded shields and runs toward the shuttle.

But he isn’t even wearing any armor, and Fives is still holding his bucket! Echo keeps running and Fives can’t move. _No no no, not again._

He tries to shout Echo’s name, over and over, but his mouth feels slow and he can’t quite get the words out. His brother keeps running, stopping at the shuttle’s boarding ramp to protect it from enemy fire.

The commando droid moves the turret and fires, plasma bolts creating an arc of explosions across the landing area, heading right for Echo. _Why can’t Fives move?_ All he can do is try to call Echo back, but he’s not _listening_!

“Echo, _plea—_ ”

Something hits Fives’ shoulder and he lashes out, fist grazing his attacker. He doesn’t have time to fight droids, he has to get to Echo!

But then there’s no more blaster fire, just hoarse shouting and a quick scuffling sound nearby. Someone is holding his arm and talking, but he can barely hear them, and he realizes he’s the one gasping for air, each breath ending on a broken sob.

“—ives, can you hear me? I need you to breathe.”

He tries, but he can’t seem to fill his lungs. It’s dark and he doesn’t know where Echo is, and he _can’t breathe_.

Sharper, the voice barks, “Designation and rank, trooper!”

Instinctively, Fives straightens (he’s sitting down?), trying to come to attention. His lungs will only take in small sips of air, but years of training override his body’s signals and he sucks in just enough to speak. “CT-0027-5555,” he manages, but has to gasp another desperate breath to add, “Advanced Recon Commando, sir!”

The hand on his arm—on his skin—squeezes gently, and Fives blinks, realizing he’s not in his armor, just sleep pants and a thin shirt. He’s sitting on a bunk in a small, dim room. There’s not much else in the room besides a desk and a little table by the bunk, and there are two figures crouched next to him.

Oh. His room in the officer’s quarters of the new Coruscant Guard complex.

The figure gripping Fives’ arm says, softer now, “Slow down your breathing, okay. Count with me…”

But Fives still can’t breathe, and he’s dizzy from it. His stomach rolls suddenly.

“Move, move,” he rasps, trying to untangle himself from the smothering blankets as he swings his legs off the bunk and pushes the figure away. Distantly, he realizes that the one holding him is Fox, because he’s wearing that stupidly soft black shirt Senator Chuchi gave him.

“Fiv—”

“Move! I gotta—” But then he’s free and shoving past the second figure, feeling skin on his shoulder as he staggers out of the small room and across the hall to the shared ‘fresher.

Slamming open the closest of the three stalls, he barely reaches the toilet in time to hunch over and puke.

At some point his knees hit the hard floor, and he gags and coughs, blinking back tears. Desperately trying to focus, Fives latches onto a calming technique he learned in ARC training and assesses his physical state. His breathing is still far too shallow, his nose burns, he’s shivering so hard his teeth are chattering, his mouth tastes revolting, his shins are cold against the tiles...

He hears quiet voices in the hallway, then footsteps on the floor just outside the stall. Fives should grab some ‘fresher wipes to clean up the puke and snot on his face, but he’s shaking so hard, all he can do is croak, “Go ‘way.”

There’s a soft hum of disagreement, then the stall door silently swings open. Fives can see bare legs and feet out of the corner of his eye, and no one but Thorn wanders around in just their underwear at night. Fives can’t make himself look at his friend, though, just continues clinging to the bowl, spitting once in a vain attempt to get the sickly, acidic taste out of his mouth.

Fives has discovered that Thorn is a bit like Hardcase. He’s sort of a lunatic, but also insists on being a pest until he cheers you up. Unlike Hardcase, who tells you silly stories or annoys you until you’re either laughing or chasing him around the barracks trying to get your toothbrush back, Thorn drapes himself over you like a sleepy tooka. Fives has yet to experience this phenomenon, though he’s witnessed it a few times when some of the CG boys have had rough days.

He has a feeling he’s about to get some firsthand experience, though, so he’s not surprised when Thorn plops his half naked ass on the cold floor and starts carding his fingers through Fives’ hair. The sudden stinging behind his eyes has Fives dropping his forehead onto his arm in a vain attempt to hide his face. He’s only barely able to stop himself from making more embarrassing noises by holding his breath for as long as possible between tightly controlled sips of air.

This is ridiculous. Fives is an _ARC_ . He should be able to handle anything. He should push Thorn away and get a hold of himself. He _should_ be happy, because Echo is alive and he got to hug his batchmate for the first time in nearly two years yesterday, but instead he’s curled up on the floor of the ‘fresher, trembling and holding back tears.

He wishes Rex was here now. Jesse and Hardcase and Kix did their best to comfort what was left of Domino Squad after Rishi, but Fives was a shiny then, so it was okay for him to fall apart a little. After he and Echo became ARCs, Fives kept himself in check so the rest of the 501st knew they could rely on him. Sure, he wasn’t among the oldest batches of clones in the 501st, but as an ARC, it was his duty to hold it together and be steady when others couldn’t.

With Echo, of course, it was different. Fives tried to be tough, even when it was just the two of them tucked away somewhere. But Echo pushed past all his bravado, like he always did, and would wrap his arms around Fives while they mourned lost brothers and civilians they couldn’t save, just like Fives did for him when he needed to let go.

But after Echo… Fives had mechanically performed his duties while they fought their way out of the Citadel, and attended the debriefings to answer questions, like a professional. When the 104th finally dropped them off on General Skywalker’s shiny new flagship, the _Challenger_ , Fives had cleaned his weapons and looked over his armor for any damage that might need repairs, just like always. He’d ignored the concerned looks from his brothers and checked his datapad to fill out all the necessary post-mission reports, and had even remembered to submit a requisition request for a new left gauntlet (his was cracked right down the middle and he’d already epoxied it three times but it wasn’t holding well) and more EMP grenades.

Then he’d quietly slipped away and walked the length of the ship until he reached the secondary reactor maintenance area, where he was unlikely to run into anyone else. He still has no idea how long he sat on the floor in one of the storage rooms down there, but he’d been stupid enough to put his armor back on and didn’t think to power down his wrist comm and HUD, so Rex must have tracked his locator after he was gone for too long.

The captain had always been… Well, Fives had the sense that Rex was particularly fond of Echo and him. Jesse joked a few times that Rex was like their proud _ori’vod_ , which was apparently a Mandalorian word for ‘big brother’ that the Alphas and CCs had picked up back on Kamino and passed down.

When Rex had stepped into the narrow aisle behind a shelving unit that was acting as a hiding place, Fives startled and tried to wipe away the tear tracks on his cheeks, babbling some absurd apology about looking for tools.

Rex had just made a wounded noise and pressed in close to Fives. Their armor and the tight space made it awkward, but he’d managed to pull Fives up against his chest, murmuring quiet reassurances.

Fives had frozen, every muscle in his body locked in place. Then Rex started humming, a little off-key, and tentatively rested his gloved hand on the back of Fives’ neck, and Fives couldn’t hold it all back anymore.

It was like the rogue wave that passed by Tipoca City a couple years before the war started, tall enough to lick at the lower levels and shake the buildings so hard that trays of rations slid off the tables in the mess, their clatter drowned out by the overwhelming roar of the sea.

The next bit isn’t as clear as most of Fives’ memories, but he knows he clung to Rex’s armor and sobbed until his throat was raw and he felt overheated and too tired to move. But Rex just held onto him and waited until he was able to stagger to his feet and get his bucket back on to return to the barracks. As far as Fives knows, Rex never mentioned it to anyone.

Rex has seen him like this before, and didn’t treat him any differently after, still expected him to do his job. And it’s not that Fives doesn’t trust Thorn and Fox, it’s just that… he should be able to control himself, and shouldn’t need anyone to take care of him.

Thorn just keeps petting his head, though, fingernails gently scratching over his scalp every now and then, and Fives _doesn’t_ cry. He just shivers, and concentrates on his breathing, sniffling a few times.

Eventually Thorn hands him some ‘fresher wipes to wash his face and blow his nose, then tugs Fives to his feet, keeping a steadying hand on his back. Fives goes along, but he keeps his eyes on the floor as Thorn guides him to the sinks and fills a flimsi cup with water, quietly narrating his actions. Fives feels pathetic, like a scared cadet again, but somehow Thorn’s voice, stating simple facts, helps.

When he presses the cup into Fives’ hands, Thorn murmurs, “Drink and swish your mouth out, okay?”

Fives complies, cautiously glancing up before he leans over the sink to swirl the water around his mouth and spit. Thorn’s floppy blond hair is even wilder than usual, flattened on one side and fluffed up at the top like he went to bed with it wet. He looks tired—Fives has no idea what time he woke them up yelling—but not annoyed, just… concerned, maybe.

After getting him to drink another small cup of water, Thorn shuffles them across the hallway, which smells like caf for some reason, back to Fives’ tiny room. Fives expects him to leave, but Thorn just keeps gently manhandling him until they’re sitting next to each other on the bunk, backs against the wall and feet dangling off the side.

Thorn reaches over Fives to pull up the blankets, but Fives is distracted from Thorn’s fussing by the chrono on the desk. Great, it’s not even 0400. Thorn just finished his shift at midnight, Fives’ alarm is set to go off at 0600, and he’s pretty sure Fox has to be on duty before then. At least Thorn can go back to bed, but Fox always has trouble sleeping, so there’s no way he’s getting any more rest. Fives feels like an ass.

While Thorn continues tucking the blanket around them, Fives notices footsteps coming down the hall from their shared living quarters before Fox appears in the doorway, balancing three mugs of caf. That explains the pleasant smell.

“Thanks,” Thorn whispers, as he takes two of the plain mugs from Fox, holding them steady while the commander’s weight shifts the mattress. He settles in on Fives’ other side, lightly pressing their shoulders together, and even though Fives is still embarrassed, he’s calm enough now to be grateful for their concern.

Leaning forward to look at Fox over Fives’ lap, Thorn asks, “Which one?”

Fox’s head is tilted back to rest against the wall, and he’s cradling his mug, eyes closed. “Oh,” he murmurs, absently, “The one on your right.”

Thorn holds the mug out. “Here, Fives. The Fox Special.”

The commander scoffs, which makes Fives even more curious. Accepting the mug from Thorn, he takes a moment to let it warm his unsteady, icy fingers, then holds his nose over the steam. It’s obviously caf, but there’s something else, too, and it seems vaguely familiar…

Taking a careful sip, because he’s never gotten used to drinking molten lava like Rex and Kix do, Fives rolls the caf mixture around in his mouth.

It’s good. Fox must have added some sugar, but there’s still the bitterness of the caf and...Chocolate? How had Fox gotten his hands on that?

Seemingly reading his mind, Thorn elaborates. “Before you ask, no, he won’t tell us where he gets his contraband cocoa, but my bet’s on blackmail.”

Fives huffs a small, amused breath as Thorn hums, continuing, “Maybe Senator Taa… Or, what's his name? Aak?”

“Aak’s not even _in_ the Senate anymore,” Fox mutters, “They kicked him out.”

Chuckling, Thorn raises his mug. “A toast, to taking out the trash.”

+++

Shifting, Fives tries to reach for his datapad to turn the alarm off, but instead he smacks an… arm? His eyes feel gross and crusty, but he blinks a few times and realizes he’s lying half on top of Thorn, who’s completely ignoring the alarm and is instead snuggled up with Fives’ pillow, drooling.

Fives doesn’t remember falling back to sleep, but someone had the presence of mind to clear the mugs out of his room and cover the two of them with a blanket.

Sitting up, Fives remembers the chocolate—Thorn had called it cocoa?—Fox had added to his caf, and even though he still feels guilty and stupid for waking them both up last night, he can’t help a small smile. When he stretches and slips out from under the blanket, he must jostle Thorn because the commander sleepily mumbles, “You ‘kay?”

Ugh, he’s too nice. Hound should have named his ridiculously affectionate massiff ‘Thorn’ instead of ‘Grizzer.’

“Yeah, I’m good,” Fives whispers, and remembering how he freaked out last night makes his face feel hot, but he reaches over to give Thorn’s shoulder a squeeze. “Go back to sleep.”

Breathing out a sleepy sigh, Thorn curls into a ball under the blanket, looking small and strangely young.

Turning to key open the small closet recessed in the wall, Fives decides he needs a shower in the sonics more than he needs food. He’s got to get down to the new CG offices, which are still a bit of a mess while everything is getting moved in and rearranged, by 0630, so there’s no rush. And missing breakfast shouldn’t be an issue, as he can probably scrounge a spare ration bar from someone at the office.

He goes about his morning routine with a singular focus, trying very hard not to let the vivid dream from last night play over and over in his mind. He’s honestly not even certain that the events from the previous day actually _happened_. Getting Echo back after Fives thought he was dead for so long seems like a ridiculous fantasy, and the sliver of doubt makes him want to hop on a speeder and race to the Temple right now, just to make sure his brother is really there.

But the healers said he’d probably be having some tests and procedures done this morning, and anyway, Fives has a job to do. He loves Echo more than _anything_ , but he can’t let his other brothers down, either. And Echo told Fives he was fine, that he’d be okay...

Shaking himself, he glances at the chrono. It’s 0621 and he’s just attaching his last pieces of armor, so he’s got plenty of time to jog over to the main offices on the other side of the CG complex.

Checking to make sure Thorn is still covered up, Fives grabs his pack from under the desk and wakes up his datapad on the way out of the room to see if he has any messages. Trotting down the stairs, he dismisses a couple notes about ongoing construction he’s already aware of, then spots one from Fox, sent a little over an hour ago. He taps the message as he nods to a tired looking trooper headed in the opposite direction, and strides through the front doors of the barracks into the early morning sun.

_Go see your brother. Stone and I have things under control here. I’ll comm you if anything urgent comes up, so don’t argue._

Fives stops in his tracks, torn between the instinct to do his duty, no matter what, and the desperate desire to lay his eyes on Echo again. He bites his lip, fingers hovering over the datapad. He thinks—he _hopes_ Fox would tell him if they really need his help. And it’s only about ten minutes to the Temple by speeder, so he can get back quickly…

Mind made up, Fives hastily shoves the pad into his backpack and takes off for the main docking bay.

+++

Fives does _not_ fidget in his chair by Echo’s bedside in the Halls of Healing. He didn’t become an ARC and survive nearly three years of war to lose his cool over something like this.

It’s just that he _really_ wants Echo to like Fox. It’s been six days since Echo arrived on Coruscant, and Fives tried to be subtle yesterday when he mentioned to Fox that _maybe_ the commander could stop by Echo’s room after his weekly minder session with Master Che. Fox is always an odd mixture of twitchy and serene after those sessions, like he’s agitated about having to talk—or maybe just think? Fives isn’t sure exactly how it works, and hasn’t had the courage to ask—about all the shit he went through with Palpatine, but somehow less _affected_ by it than he was before he stepped through the healer’s door.

Tup came by the Halls of Healing the previous day to meet Echo, and they hit it off right away. Fives knew they would, so he wasn’t nervous about that introduction. Echo can be a snarky bastard, but he was always gentle with the shinies, and even though Tup joined the 501st over a year ago, he still manages to bring out everyone’s big brother instincts. A few weeks ago, when Fives met up with some of Torrent at 79s, Jesse had been ready to dismember a tipsy brother from the 327th when the poor guy tripped into Tup and made him spill his drink. Of course, Tup had been more concerned about the drunk, gently steadying him while Kix pressed a hand to Jesse’s chest and quietly reminded him that Tup could take care of himself.

So Echo and Tup were good. Echo cheerfully accepted Tup’s invitation to show him around the newer 501st barracks once the Jedi healers release him. Before Echo had… Well, _before_ , their barracks had been near the center of the GAR housing complex, but maybe a couple months before Umbara, the higher ups had finally ordered some long overdue renovations and shuffled units around. Now the 501st troopers bunk in a building on the side closest to the Temple. It’s not fancy, but the sonics work a lot better than they did in the old building, which pleased Tup and their other brothers with long hair.

Not that Fives spends much time there, these days. And who knows what’s going to become of the barracks when the GAR really starts drawing down. Fives is lucky to already have a position working with Fox and the Coruscant Guard, but he’s worried that a lot of brothers are going to feel lost without the structure of military life. It’s all they’ve ever known.

He’s aware that his reasons for introducing Echo and Fox so soon are selfish. It’s unclear if Echo is going to be able to return to active duty, and even if he does, how long will that last? With the most powerful of the Sep holdouts and war profiteers already taken care of, Fives doesn’t think the Galaxy will need such a large military presence beyond the end of the year. He’s worried that Echo won’t have a place in whatever comes next, or that he’ll find a place somewhere _else_.

And Fives would… he would _want_ to follow Echo, but he’s needed here, helping Fox and the other CG commanders with this huge transition. They’re going to make things better. _Really_ better, this time, and not just on Coruscant. On top of that, he likes Fox, a lot more than he expected to.

The Marshal Commander and the Coruscant Guard in general have always been cut off from the rest of the GAR, an unknown quantity to most clones. They weren’t on the front lines of the war, didn’t share the same experiences as their brothers, but were instead tasked with protecting politicians and a public that didn’t care about them beyond how much they cost to produce.

Fox is pretty stoic about it all, and the other CG boys Fives has gotten to know still seem a little… not suspicious of him, but closed off, like they’re waiting for the other boot to drop. But Fives and Fox have spent a lot of time together over the past few months, since they met on the _Vigilance_ —Fives doesn’t count the warehouse. That wasn’t Fox—and he’s come to realize that things were a lot harder for the CG than they let on.

The night before the CG was due to move into their new headquarters, he and Fox were closing up the old, dilapidated, offices for the last time. There were outlines on the dingy walls and floor where shelves and desks had been, and the building was eerily dark and quiet. Thire was on patrol, Stone was away on a diplomatic escort mission, and Thorn had his first night off in two weeks, so Fox had physically pushed him out the door a few hours before and told his squad to go get him drunk or something.

Fox and Fives were doing a final check of the building when they discovered seven slightly warm, contraband beers in the back of the mess’s powered down refrigerator. Gathering up the bottles, they sat on the dusty floor, drinking by the watery glow of a streetlight outside the window.

When Fox was three beers in, they were talking about a batch of shinies, fresh off Kamino, who joined the Guard a few days before, and how they hoped things would be better for those kids. Fox trailed off, going quiet and staring at a long crack in the floor but clearly not seeing it. Fives thought maybe he recognized that faraway look, had seen something like it in the mirror a few times, after the Citadel, when he’d be shaving and just… drift, until a brother barged into the fresher or laughed in the hallway outside, and Fives would realize the shaving soap on his face was dry.

So he stayed quiet and sipped his beer, listening to the traffic outside. Eventually he shifted when one leg started going numb, and Fox flinched, almost dropping his bottle. The commander frowned and picked at the label, and when he finally spoke his voice was rough, barely above a whisper.

“I knew something was wrong,” he told Fives. “I couldn’t have said what, exactly, but… I guess there was a part of me that knew I had to keep the others away from him.”

Fives had noticed that Fox didn’t say Palpatine's—or Sidious’s— name unless he was speaking in an official capacity.

Fox cleared his throat. “So I didn’t—I told Thorn and Thire and Stone that he’d requested I be the only one to report to him. If they knew it was my idea they wouldn't have listened, so…” He shrugged, plastoid scraping the wall behind them. “I didn’t sleep much. There’s a lot I don’t… remember. But I don’t regret it.”

Fives recalls thinking, then, about how he would die for his brothers in a heartbeat. Any clone would do the same. But what Fox had done was _more_ , somehow. Even if the commander hadn’t known precisely what was happening to him, he’d clearly been aware that he was the only thing standing between his men and something terrible.

Not knowing how to respond to Fox’s admission, Fives just leaned in and bumped their spaulders together, like he and the rest of Torrent used to do when none of them had words for all the jagged edges under their skin.

So sure, Fives is hoping that Echo and Fox get along, and maybe they can find a place for Echo with the CG. But he can also admit, to himself, at least, that he wants Echo to like Fox because _Fives_ likes Fox.

It’s all very selfish, something a cadet would do. On top of the shame is a thick layer of guilt, because it was _his_ fault Echo got captured—he should have stayed, he should have _searched_ for him. And now that Echo’s back, Fives should be _happy_ . He _is_ happy. But every morning he wakes up convinced that it’s all a dream and Echo is still dead, and it won’t stop hurting.

The scrape of chair legs on the floor shakes Fives out of his spiraling thoughts. He’s pretty certain he doesn’t startle too badly when Fox, who’s been sitting next to him, pushes his chair back and stands.

Risking a sidelong glance at Echo, Fives’ certainty goes down to zero. Echo knows something’s up.

“I have to get back for a patrol, then we have that meeting with the civvies later,” Fox says, glancing at the chrono on the monitor by Echo’s bed.

Fives stands as well, though he doesn’t have to leave yet. “Right, yeah. I’ll be there.”

Refusing to acknowledge the suspicious squint Echo aims at him, Fives instead has to endure Fox pausing to raise an eyebrow and give him a once over, before the commander turns back to Echo.

Tucking his bucket under one arm and settling his face into a neutral mask, Fox says, “Glad to hear you’re on the mend, ARC Trooper.”

“Thank you, sir. It was an honor to meet you,” Echo replies, scooting off the low bed to come to attention. He just got the new legs two days ago, so the healers told him he should be careful, but that he's free to walk around as much as he wants. Something about encouraging proper nerve connections.

Fox nods. “You as well.” His voice is even, but Fives thinks he detects a hint of warmth underneath the formal words. It took Fox weeks to lower his prickly defenses around Fives, and he raises them in an instant around almost anyone who’s not a CG officer or one of his batchmates. Fives anticipated Fox’s stiffness, and warned Echo not to take it personally.

Standing in his soft, pale, Jedi-issue sleep clothes, Echo salutes the commander with the scomp link on his right arm, and Fives exhales slowly, guilt ricocheting around behind his ribs. He hasn’t seen Echo salute anyone since… Before.

Nodding again, Fox appears to be unfazed by the strangeness of the situation and slips his bucket on. With a deliberate tap of his vambrace against Fives’, he strides out of the room, and Fives can tell by the heavy silence that Echo is already formulating a plan of attack.

Okay, he has to head him off.

“So, uh, what did you think of Commander Fox?” Fives asks, voice a little shrill while he looks anywhere but at Echo’s face. The healers assigned him a private room when he arrived, and it’s small but nice. The bed is much bigger and squishier than anything in GAR medcenters, the walls are a soothing shade of grey, and there’s even a window with a view of the Coruscant skyline. The city looks so much cleaner from up here.

Echo moves to cross his arms, stops, and lowers them with a small, aggravated huff. The healers say he’s adapting to the new prosthetics and his sensitivity to electromagnetic fields remarkably fast, but he still has moments like this, when he forgets that he doesn’t have a right hand.

“Fives.”

Groaning, Fives shuffles his feet. “Echo, come on…”

Leaning back against the wall, Echo shakes his head. “Don’t ‘come on’ me. What’s wrong? I thought you were going to pull every single thread out of your gloves while I was talking with the commander.”

Kriff. He hadn’t realized he was being that obvious.

Stepping behind the chair he’d been sitting on, Fives grips the back of it, searching for a valid excuse. “I’m just nervous about the, uh, meeting later. You know, it’s a lot, with the—with the Guard planning to open up positions for civilians, and—”

“Fives.” Echo’s voice is sharper, and Fives doesn’t know why he bothers trying to lie to his batchmate. He can’t even bluff strangers, so he has a snowball’s chance on Mustafar with Echo.

Echo sighs, stepping forward so there’s just the chair between them. “Do you want to walk down to the fountain room? Will that make it easier—”

“I’m not the one we should be worrying about!” Fives snaps, and instantly wants to throw himself off the edge of the nearest underworld portal. “Sorry! Sorry, I…” He shakes his head and turns to pace around the small room. How is he supposed to explain this to Echo? Fives has been mourning him for almost two years. Sith Hells, it was _months_ before he stopped turning to crack a joke or mutter some dumb comment to a brother who would never be at his side again.

Except now he is, and Fives doesn’t know how to take back what he lost. He can’t decide if he wants to hold on to Echo and never let go or space himself because he can barely even breathe around the knowledge that he’s partly responsible for his brother ending up in Tambor’s hands and turned into a karking _experiment_.

He was just a weapon, with no autonomy, like they were all intended to be.

The silence has stretched on too long, which can’t mean anything good. Fives scrubs a gloved hand over his face and braces himself for… Disappointment? Anger? He’s not sure.

Finally, Echo sighs. “Sit down,” he says, sounding suddenly tired.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Fives breaths out, once. He owes Echo the truth, and he needs to stop being a kriffing coward. So he turns and sinks back into his seat, hands balled into fists on his legs just above his knee plates.

Echo sits across from him, leaning his elbows against his thighs. He’s already gained some weight since he got back, and his color looks better. There’s even some oddly pale stubble on his head, though he’s clearly been shaving his face.

Tilting his head down to catch Fives’ eye, Echo says, “You know I love you, but I’m only going to say this once.” He pauses to take a breath. “Yeah, I’m not happy about what… happened to me. But I’m alive and more or less okay, and you need to stop treating me like I’m going to break.”

Fives breath catches and he decides that’s more than enough eye contact. Dropping his head into his hands, he has to force his next words out through a constricted throat. “How can you even look at me when I just _left_ you?”

Clenching his jaw, he hears Echo make a frustrated noise. “I already told you it’s not your fault. I read Rex and Cody’s mission reports, Fives. No one thought I’d survived and you can’t—”

“I don't care what the reports said!” Fives grits out, and he can’t stand feeling out of control like this. “I shouldn’t have listened to them, I should’ve known, I should have been _with_ you.” The words are tumbling out and he doesn’t even know what point he’s trying to make. “If I’d just stayed, I could’ve—or they would have taken me, too, and then we would’ve been _together_ , at least. We’re supposed to be together, and then it was just me and I was the only one left, and—and what if you hate me and you leave and then it’s just me again and...”

He trails off on a watery sob, and then Echo’s pushing on his vambraces to move his hands away from his face. His batchmate is on his knees, and Fives’ first thought is that maybe he shouldn’t be doing that yet with his new legs, but then Echo leans in and presses their foreheads together.

“No, Fives, stop,” he says, getting his left hand on the back of Fives’ neck, “I’ll keep telling you until you believe me, but it wasn’t your fault and I don’t blame you, okay? I don’t—I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose you, and I hate that you thought you were the last Domino.”

Fives squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a tiny, embarrassingly choked noise.

“But you know I’d never have wanted Tambor to get his hands on you, too. I’m _glad_ you left, because otherwise we wouldn’t be here now, right?” His fingers give Fives’ neck a soft squeeze. “And if you’d been caught or killed, you never would have found out about the chips and saved all of us.”

Okay, yeah, that’s probably true, but Fives can’t shake the bone-deep certainty that if he’d just done something else, been _better_ , he could have gotten Echo out of the Citadel. Clenching his jaw so tight his ears ring, he counts silently, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Echo is quiet for several heartbeats, and Fives realizes he’s synchronizing their breaths.

Something rattles loose inside him and he pushes his chair back and drops to his knees in front of Echo, pulling his brother into a hug. Maybe he’ll do the ‘never let go’ thing, after all.

A tiny _oof_ forces its way out of Echo’s lungs when Fives wraps his arms around him, and Fives somehow keeps forgetting how thin Echo is, how much strength he needs to get back. That’s… They can work on that together.

Tucking his nose in against the collar of Fives’ blacks, Echo murmurs, “You know I could never hate you, even when you complain about which side I keep my ammo pouches on.”

Fives snorts, but it’s a little soggy and turns into a sniffle.

Echo presses on. “Or when we argue over the best way to make the green ration bars taste less like rotten bantha.”

Huffing out a quiet laugh, Fives shifts to pull his gloves off, dropping them on the floor and hesitantly placing one hand on the back of Echo’s head. He’s been trying to avoid directly touching the implants there and on his brother’s back and neck, out of fear that he might damage them or hurt Echo. But he dares to run a hand over the soft stubble on Echo’s head, and reminds himself that Echo will tell him if it hurts when his fingers brush over the metal ports.

Echo shivers, suddenly, and Fives can feel him tighten his hold and angle his face under Fives’ jaw.

Feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, Fives adds, “Or when I put my cold toes on you.”

Echo hums, settling more of his weight against Fives. “Or when you and Jesse kept dulling my razors and Rex took me aside to ask if I needed _shaving advice_.”

Recalling the uncomfortable concern on Rex’s face, Fives lets out a giggle befitting a cadet. “That was a good one, though. You had no idea what was going on until Jesse was practically in tears and Rex looked like he was going to combust.”

“You’re just lucky you had your bucket on so you could turn off the mic and muffle your stupid laughing.”

Fives snickers again. “It was totally worth a couple days of KP duty.”

Echo snorts. “You’re the worst,” he complains, but Fives thinks it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him.


End file.
